Lincoln learned to fly helicopters while in his 70s and was still taking off solo in ultralight planes until he was 97. He was driving and living independently until last year, when a couple of falls slowed him down. He traversed his large citrus ranch in Porterville by deftly maneuvering a Segway.

Mo Martin learned almost nothing about her grandfather’s accomplishments from him. Other people had to tell her.

“He’s the most modest human being I’ve ever met. That’s putting it lightly,” Moe said. “I never met somebody who lives their life so serenely. He’s a walking example. Some people think, ‘What would Jesus do?’ I think, ‘What would Grandpa do?’ “

Lincoln’s mind is clear, said his family members. When asked a question, he tugs at his cream-colored cowboy hat and takes some time to ponder. But the answers are clearly spoken.

How proud is he of Mo?

“She’s a continual matter of pride,” he said. “I feel like her career is half my career. We work together. Her successes seem like my successes as well. I guess that’s what makes it so great.”

Mo, who grew up in Altadena, might not have had the chance to know her grandfather if her father had lived longer. Allen Martin was a taskmaster mentor and coach, “a controversial character,” Mo said.

When Mo was in kindergarten, her dad used a permanent marker to draw on “X” on her palm to remind her where the golf club fit into her hand. He wouldn’t let her take a full swing until her backswing was “perfect.” Allen Martin nicknamed his daughter after the USS Missouri because it was a solid, workmanlike battleship.

“My dad taught me some of the best life lessons, some of the hardest,” Mo said. “I really appreciate the role he had in my life.”

Her relationship with her grandfather could not be more opposite.

“He’s just so positive,” Linda Martin, Mo’s mother, said of her father-in-law. “He just has his own unique view of life. It’s always, ‘learn from your mistakes, you can do it.’ He’s always thinking good thoughts.

“Mo gives him something to focus on; it gives him goals. He’s always thought life was too short. There’s too many things he wants to do. He’s got lists and lists. He can’t die now because he has all of these things to do.”

Lincoln’s “never give up” attitude has been the cornerstone of Mo’s golf career. The money is so scarce in minor-league women’s golf it’s tough to survive six years on the Symetra Tour (formerly Duramed Futures) without giving up. People asked Mo frequently when she was going to get on with her life. Her answer has always been the same: She’d do it as long as she enjoyed it, felt she was contributing and could make even a modest living.

“You’ve got to have a lot of craziness to do what we’re doing,” she said with a big smile. “There’s nothing simple. There’s nothing guaranteed in this game. The way I look at it, life is like that.”

Lincoln Martin has traveled to about eight tournaments per year to see Mo play and likely will try to do the same this year. Mo laughed at the thought. It used to be that she wanted to a have a “special” week for her grandpa because she didn’t know if it would be his last.

“Oh my gosh!” the granddaughter said, her eyes widening with obvious joy. “I was hoping for a little, and I got a tremendous amount.”